


Wisdom, Justice, Moderation

by ScotlandEvander



Series: Various States [18]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Gen, Loki Ran Away, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Online Shopping, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 11:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6983149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScotlandEvander/pseuds/ScotlandEvander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve deals with the aftermath of Loki running away from Stark Tower. Sam's amazed this aftermath includes a huge collection of designer shoes and handbags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wisdom, Justice, Moderation

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

_Plant your flower and you grow a pearl / A child is born with a heart of gold / The way of the world makes his heart grow cold_

_-Earth, Wind, and Fire, “That’s The Way of the World”_

* * *

The mess was epic. Sam had expected a little disarray, but the disaster of an apartment he was presented with was not created by Steve Rogers in a rage over the fact his boyfriend had up and left to find some random group of misfits that were trying to reboot a super spy agency. No, this mess wasn’t Steve’s at all. It belonged to Loki.

No wonder since Loki had run off Steve usually met him on the communal floor. Likely didn’t want Sam to see he was living in Loki’s misery. 

Sam stepped around the precarious piles of books and boxes of shoes in the entry and called out, “Steve?”

“Captain Rogers is in the kitchen, Captain Wilson.”

“I’m retired.”

“Retired Captain Wilson.”

“That just sounds stupid, JARVIS. I’m not a four star general. Just call me Mr Wilson.”

“As you’ve requested, Mr Wilson.”

“How the heck did you get him to do that?”

Steve appeared in a doorway near the entry that was issuing a horrible stench. Sam peered around the guy through the wider than average doorway to find a kitchen filled with dirty dishes and gross countertops. He looked back at Steve to find him wearing his usual weekend wear (white t-shirt, dark jeans) and not looking like he had been waging war with his state of the art kitchen.

“Do what?”

“I cannot get him to stop calling me Captain Rogers.”

“You’re still technically—” Sam began.

“I am Captain America! I am not Captain Rogers!”

Sam decided this was not the battle he’d come to fight, so he changed the subject.

“What’s going on in that galley kitchen? And why on Earth do you have a closed off galley kitchen in this joint? You’ve got enough square footage to make a majority of the normal folks in Manhattan jealous.”

Sam took in the apartment further and realized it was laid out as if it wasn’t actually in the horribly modern, contemporary, state of the art Stark Tower. It looked like a movie set for a 1940s film, right down to the color scheme. The only thing off were the proportions of the joint, as it was clearly bigger than the average 1940s apartment, either because it was built to house a super soldier and his giant boyfriend or because it was located on a whole floor of a skyscraper.

“It’s Stark’s idea of a really bad joke. He fashioned it before Loki and I got together, so it’s designed for me. Well, who he thought I was. What he thought I’d find familiar and inviting,” Steve complained, scowling at the dated wallpaper lining the front hall. “Seriously, I’m not a captain in the Army. The Army has nothing to do with me. When they found out I wasn’t dead, I got an honorable discharge. I am not a member of the United States Army.”

“Just put up with it, Rogers. Now, the kitchen?”

“Loki left a mess.”

“Loki left like a month ago,” Sam reminded the big lug. “Can’t you smell that? I mean, I can and I’m not you.”

“I’ve become nose numb,” Steve proclaimed.

“Steve, this isn’t healthy. This place…is so sad. And not because of the horrible, dated decor or that you’ve not touched anything since your boy left, but because you’re living in his pain.”

“What?”

“Dude,” Sam sighed, running his hands over his face and praying for strength. “Loki is the neatest person known to man. He is super organized, even if to others it might look like chaos. This is not organized.”

“How do you know Loki’s organized?”

“I’ve seen the inside of his messenger bag and his laptop screen.”

“That’s not organized.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah, it does. This,” Sam motioned around the entry and the kitchen, “is not Loki at all.”

Steve scowled.

“And you know it. What happened in this kitchen?”

“Loki likes to cook. He…spent a lot of time cooking and never cleaned up after himself.”

“And the rest of the joint?” Sam asked, having to exit the entry hall and go somewhere else because the stench from the kitchen was getting to him. He walked into a huge sunken living room, which looked more like Stark’s taste, being that it had a wall of super modern windows.

The living room looked like it’d thrown up feathers.

“Honestly. How did you not realize what was coming, man?” Sam asked. “How do you live here?”

“Quietly,” Steve said from behind. “And Loki didn’t do the feathers. I did. Stark thought it’d be funny to fill the punching bags with feathers and sand.”

“And you were working out in the living room?”

“Yeah. Nat chased me out of the gym.”

Sam’s eye lit on the rig to hang the bag on the ceiling, right in the dead center. Sam shook his head.

“And you’ve not cleaned this up?”

He began to notice the sand, which he hadn’t due to the fact the carpet was sand colored.

“It looks like a beach in here. One that was attacked by a seagull.”

“It was last night,” Steve admitted. “Seriously, the only mess—”

Sam turned and stalked down the dark hall towards the closed door near the end. He wrenched it opened before Steve could stop him and folded his arms across his chest.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I will look at you like this because you’re pathetic.”

Steve looked as if he was going to argue, but didn’t.

“Let’s hear your reason for not picking up your bedroom?”

“It was the last room he was in,” Steve quietly admitted while staring at the floor.

Sam sighed, dropping his arms and grabbing Steve by the shoulder.

“I get it, man. I do. Your boy left you and you are a sad sack of play dough. But, seriously, how do you sleep in there?”

“I don’t. I sleep in the guest room.”

“If Loki does come back tomorrow, he’s going to be pissed. Oh, wait. Is that what you’re going for?”

“No.”

Steve’s huge shoulders sagged.

“Then why? Steve, this whole apartment is a shrine to Loki’s pain. Except the living room. That kitchen? This room?”

Steve swallowed, slowly drawing his gem eyes off the floor and meeting Sam’s plain ones.

“Pain?”

“Oh, man. Loki was miserable after the fall of SHEILD. He was trapped in this apartment and it shows. Think for a second. After Loki usually was in the kitchen, didn’t he clean up after himself?”

Steve nodded.

“What does it say to you that he simply kept making dirty dishes?”

“How do you get he was in pain?”

“Mostly because I knew he was in pain before he skedaddled. I could see it. He was itching for a fight, crawling in his own skin. I know it hurts, and I know it sucks, but he had to leave, had to go underground. He could have become a vigilante, I know, but so many others are doing that now.”

Steve snorted.

“So, I ask you Steve, will you please help me clean your apartment?”

Steve sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. Sam shook him by the shoulders and Steve finally nodded.

“Since you’re nose blind to that kitchen, you go there. Does it have a window that opens?”

“None of Stark’s windows open,” Steve grumbled, muttering about the modern age of non-opening windows. Sam shook his head and walked into the bedroom, which looked as if Loki had simply given up at life. There were clothes piled everywhere, several high end man bags crumpled on the floor, another half hanging off the door and getting bent out of shape, piles of shoes, and there were books everywhere. Every surface other than the bed had books piled on it. The bed was filled with crumpled sheets and more clothes.

Did Loki take anything with him?

“The clothing is all clean, Mr Wilson. Mr Laufey-Odinson did laundry before he left.”

“This is his packing fit?”

“No. He simply dumped clean clothes on the floor after he did laundry each time. He washed everything he wore, dumped it on the floor, and bought new clothing with Mr Stark’s credit card. Sir was rather confused on why Mr Laufey-Odinson needed so many articles of clothing when he never went anywhere.”

Sam snorted.

“I would advise you not open the closet until you cleared the room. Mr Laufey-Odinson handbags are stored there.”

“He has handbags?”

Sam opened the closet.

He should have listen to JARVIS.

“SAM!” Steve shouted, his feet pounding down the hallway. Sam fought his way out of the pile of high end, designer women’s handbags and found Steve with his hand over his mouth trying really hard not to laugh.

“I found Loki’s women’s handbag collection. How many of these things does he need? I mean, he’s got enough man bags for a lifetime already.”

“I’ve no idea. Sorry. I should have told you I’d tried to clean and shoved the purses into the closet.”

“It’s not a walk in.”

“No. Stark installed non-walk in closet as to ‘not freak me out.’”

“I am freaked out by the amount of money your boy spent on purses. What the hell?”

He yanked out a bright orange crocodile leather thing with lots of bling.

“He claimed they were works of art,” Steve tried, picking up a plain, black thing. “Like this one. It’s evidently $30,000.”

“For a purse? Why did he buy it?”

Steve shrugged. “He’d already started hoarding them when I got out of the hospital and was well enough to come here. They were in the guest bedroom. Mostly in the boxes and dust bags they’d arrived in. He’d order them online, as he couldn’t go outside. He got a lot of them off…e-Bay?”

“Yeah. I know it, man. Stark’s money?”

“Yes. Loki didn’t really have any of his own. He also bought a lot of high heels. Claimed they were an investment.”

“What was he investing for?”

“Honestly, no idea. Sam, I knew he was sad. I saw he was itching for a fight, scratching his eyeballs out at the fact he was trapped here, I just thought…”

“He’d take you with him?”

“Yeah. Why do I have to stay? No, don’t answer that. I’m Captain America. I can’t just go off and vanish off the face of the world unless I put myself on ice.”

“Want some chocolate to with that bitterness?”

Steve sagged. “I’ll go back to the kitchen.”

“Wait, what should we do with these purses?”

“I don’t know.”

Sam stared at the items around him, checking labels and silently pondering why Stark wasn’t broke after Loki’s shopping spree.

“JARVIS, can you get a message to Loki?”

“Yes, Mr Wilson.”

“Ask him what he wants done with his collection of Hermes, Chanel, Louis, Celine, and Fendi. Seriously. How many of these does he have? There are like a hundred of them.”

He held up the odd looking tote bag and wondered why women would carry such a thing. It was heavy as hell.

“I have sent him that message.”

“Thanks!” Sam said, glancing at the ceiling before going back to trying to make heads or tails of the pile of handbags. It was a testament to Steve’s packing abilities he was able to cram so many into the closet. Granted, if any handbag collectors out there witnessed what Steve had done to these things, they’d like have coronaries. (There had to be handbag collectors if there was one worth thirty-thousand dollars. Sam might not know anything about purses, but he knew about baseball cards and action figures.)

“Mr Wilson, Mr Laufey-Odinson says you may sell them. He has no need for them.”

“No kidding. STEVE!”

“What?”

“We gonna open an e-Bay account and make some dough!”

* * *

_Let you go on your way / Feeling as free as a dove / And if you find you’re a long ways from home / And somebody’s doing you wrong / Just call on me baby_

_-Al Green, “Call Me (Come Back Home)_

* * *

“What are we going to do with all this money?”

“Well, I talked to Pepper, who talked to Stark’s people. His accountant was a little worried at the rate he was spending his…fun money. So, twenty-five percent of what we make goes to pay back Stark for abusing his credit card. The other seventy-five precent is going into this account Pepper and I set up this morning.”

Sam forked over the paperwork for Loki’s new charity. Steve read the highlights and glared at the artwork the graphics people had thrown together in five minutes.

“You did this all during your two hour meeting with Pepper this morning?” Steve wondered.

“Yeah. We also didn’t bother to tell Loki he founded a charity for victims of alien attacks, enhanced human accidents, or other unexplained things.”

Steve mouthed those words.

“The PR people are going to come up with something better.”

“But the money…it’ll go to the charity which will what for these people?”

“Find them new homes, replace their belongings, pay their medical bills, and other things that happen to those who have the misfortune to be in the way when a super villain attacks.”

“Or I happen to bring down HYDRA in the middle of DC.”

“Yeah. Replace fallen buildings. Stark already has a charity that does this stuff,who goes in after the Avengers wreck a joint, but Loki can get in on the action. And it makes some good press for him.”

“He’s not even here.”

“Nope. Damn. I should pay myself for all this work I’m doing for him. Cleaning his room, selling his junk…”

“How are you selling his…handbags?” Steve asked, looking up from the papers in his hands. His fingers were moving as if they were itching to do something to the graphic.

Sam gave him a pencil.

“e-Bay. I spent all day yesterday using that lovely living room you spent all night clearing of feathers and sand to photograph all the purses. Pepper suggested we get someone else to take them, but I said it’d make it look like Loki was actually in charge of this whole thing if they were taken in the living room by myself. And, it gives people an inside look into your apartment, which let me tell you, will bring more traffic to the store than anything.”

“What?”

Sam shook his head. “Everyone wants to see how you and Loki live. There are people out there that support your relationship, they’re just not as loud as those who oppose.”

“But, the press only recently stopped stalking me.”

“Yeah, because something else happened to get their attention. We’re just going to post the purses like a normal person would post them. There is no Twitter, no Facebook, no anything other than the shop on e-Bay. This way, we’ll only get people at first who are interested in buying Birkin bags and luggage totes.”

“A what?”

“Dude, don’t even go there. I had to look up these bags and research them to sell them. Pepper was no help, mostly because she was eyeing most of the bags for herself. I know more about woman’s handbags and shoes than I ever wanted. I also plan to sock Loki in the nose. Couldn’t he have gotten interested in something manly like cars?”

Steve shrugged. “He likes leather.”

“He likes leather,” Sam mocking repeated. “Whatever.”

“So, we’re going with HELP.”

“Yup,” Sam agreed.

“And that means?”

“Help.”

“It doesn’t stand for anything? Like, Helping Everyone Love People or something?”

“Nope. It just looks better if we capitalize it all and say it with passion. HELP.”

Steve blinked.

“That’s what the organization does, Steve. Helps.”

Steve looked back down at the paper he’d been drawing on and shrugged. He carefully wrote in the name and studied it carefully before nodding.

“You know people will ask why he chose that, right?”

“And there will be a clever story dreamed up by the PR people,” Sam said. “No one knows what Loki would or would not do. Anyway, I’ve got to get going. I’ve got all the pictures on my laptop, so I’ll post them once Pepper gives me the all clear. JARVIS will tell you what to box up for the mail people to collect. All you gotta do is go into your former guest room and follow the arrows.”

“Arrows?”

Sam rolled his eyes and jerked his head for Steve to follow. Sam instructed Steve how to wrap them bags up in tissues paper, put packing material around them so they didn’t move during shipping, and where the labels would print out after they sold a bag.

“If it gets to be too much, let JARVIS know and he’ll likely have minions of Stark’s who can do this.”

“We call them interns,” JARVIS intoned.

“I don’t think a Stark Industries intern ought to be packing handbags and heels,” Steve insisted.

* * *

_When I was younger, so much younger than today / I never needed anybody’s help in anyway / But now those days are gone / I’m not so self-assured / Now I find I’ve changed my mind_

_-The Beatles, “Help!”_

* * *

“Give me an intern.”

“Captain Rogers?”

“There are like a hundred orders to go out,” Steve shirked. “I can’t get them all out! And where do these handbags keep coming from? Wait, these shoes have been used.”

“I will send someone shortly. And those shoes were formerly Ms Pott’s. She donated them for the cause, as well as gathered used handbags.”

Steve felt dizzy. All he wanted to do was empty his apartment of the purses that stuffed his closets. He hadn’t realized he was going to start running a resale shop.

“The money goes to a good cause,” JARVIS intoned as if it was something he’d said a millions. “There are several positive stories on the Internet in regards to those HELP has helped.”

“Really? All ready?”

“Mr Laufey-Odinson donated a rather large potion of one of his bank accounts the government did not freeze once he got word of what was going on,” JARVIS replied. “By the way, he recently returned from a mission. He is well.”

“What mission?”

“I am not at liberty to say, but he is reported to be in good spirits nonetheless.”

“Thank Jim for me,” Steve quietly muttered.

“I will, Captain Rogers.”

* * *

_I don’t want to straight-face you / Race or chase you, track or trace you / Or disgrace you or displace you_

_-Bob Dylan, “All I Really Want To Do”_

* * *

“I was told to see you about a handbag.”

Steve startled from where he and his intern were furiously packing shoes to ship out. Today was shoe day, as so far all the orders were for overpriced shoes. Honestly, who would pay five hundred dollars for a pair of used shoes?

HELP had branched out to designer clothing, accessories, and other random designer items people donated. Celebrities were donating stuff left and right in order to get in on the good press Loki’s (Sam’s) foundation was drumming up. But, today was Shoe Day. Steve had never seen so many shoes. And they all had bright red bottoms.

HELP also had a headquarters now. Granted it was only an empty storage room in the basement of Stark Tower, but still. It was nice to get all the stuff out of is apartment and into something more organized than lying around the guest room. Also, after the whole thing took off, Steve’s apartment looked like it’d exploded with bubble wrap, boxes, and paper.

“Did you order one?” Steve asked, furiously looking through the shipping slips next to him. Shoes. Shoes. Shoes. Oh, here was a handbag. He hadn’t pulled a handbag earlier.

“No,” Natasha said, slinking into the room. “I was surprised to see Loki started a charity when he’s gone to ground.”

“Sam started it. Using the stuff Loki hoarded during his incarceration at Stark Tower.”

Natasha nodded as Steve set the pile of packing slips back into the bin. She pulled herself up onto the table next to Steve. Steve went back to wrapping the used shoes up. First they went in a dust bag (if they didn’t have one HELP donated one), then wrapped in bubble wrap and put in a HELP shoe box (if the shoes didn’t arrive with their own shoe box). After that, more bubble wrap and into a shipping box. Steve taped the box up and slapped the shipping label on it and tossed it over his shoulder. He didn’t bother to make sure it made it into the mail cart, as he knew it had as it always did.

Steve had perfect aim.

“How’s life?”

“Fine. I have to find this handbag. It wasn’t pulled.”

Steve stood up and stalked out of the packing area into the storage area where there were shelves upon shelves of items. Natasha trailed after him.

“How’s the thing with Bruce going?” Steve asked as he hunted for the black CC purse. The CC ones were never as much as the Hermes bags. Steve couldn’t believe how much people paid for those.

Steve looked up when Natasha didn’t say anything to find her lightly pink and staring at her fingernails.

“Nat?”

She took the sheet of paper from him, glanced at it, then used him to climb up and get something off the top shelf. She handed him the dust bag with the CC logo. Steve opened it up and found the purse he’d been looking for.

“Thanks. So, things with Bruce?”

“It’s fine. We’ve managed to do the Lullaby all three times we’ve gone out to try it. Gives me something to focus on.”

Steve watched her carefully, fascinated.

“You like him.”

“He’s a very nice man,” Natasha squeezed out through clenched teeth. She turned and marched out of the stacks. Steve hurried after her.

“No! You like _like_ him!”

Natasha glared at him, not stopping till she was into the large open area where the intern and Steve packed everything.

“Are you ten?”

“YES!”

He threw his arms around her and hugged her hard. He rocked her back and forth, laughing.

“You like him! You like him!”

The intern, Naomi, stared at the pair of them with wide eyes before hurrying to pack up the shoes she was working on.

Steve set Natasha down and grinned at her widely. “Wanna help up pack some of this stuff up? We’ve got a truck loads of stuff to get out.”

“I noticed,” Natasha remarked, smoothing her hair down and straightening her shirt. “You moved out of your apartment and into a huge, white space.”

“It’s storage,” Steve replied. “Pretty sure Stark lit it to annoy me.”

“It is rather blindingly white in here. I’ll help you out, mostly because I’ve got nothing to do.”

“Because Bruce is asleep.”

“I will leave,” Natasha threatened.

“NO!”

Steve and Natasha both turned towards Naomi, who shrunk back when they both looked at her.

“I mean, we need more help. Thank you.”

“You won’t take another intern will you?”

“The interns go through a rigorous application process and want to be doing things to further their careers. I’ve already apologized to Naomi and offered to let her leave, but she claims to like doing this.”

“I wanted to be an intern at Tory Burch, but my mother insisted I do something more professional,” Naomi groused. “Pretty sure she bribed someone to get me this job, so packing up high end junk for charity? Fine by me.”

Steve shrugged.

Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Tell me what to do.”

* * *

_How can you just walk away from me / When all I can do is watch you leave / Cause we’ve shared laughter and then pain and even shared the tears / You’re the only one who really knew me at all_

_-Phil Collins, “Against All Odds (Take A Look At Me Now)”_

* * *

The shield flew through the air, cutting down a dozen HYDRA soldiers and embedding itself in a tree with a thud. Steve let out a low sigh and hung his head. How had he missed that tree? Stupid tree.

“You’ve had better days, Captain,” Thor observed, landing next to the man in red, white, and blue with a supposed plan.

Steve lifted his head and smiled tightly at Thor.

“I am most upset it is not here as well,” Thor assured, hanging his hammer on his belt. “It is good we have sorted out yet another HYDRA strong hold, though.”

“Yeah. You’re right. I just wished we’d find that damn scepter.”

“I do as well, Captain.”

Thor clapped Steve on the back before striding forward to begin to bind the unconscious HYDRA agents. Steve headed to get his shield out of the tree.

“No Code Green?” Bruce asked over the coms, his voice hopeful.

“No. No need. We’re done here. Cap?” Natasha asked.

“Done,” Steve sighed.

“I hate HYDRA,” Clint proclaimed. “They suck. They should totally advertise better where they’re keeping the Glow Stick of Destiny.”

“I agree. I was busy,” Stark complained.

Clint snorted. “Busy doing what? Building another army of Iron Men?”

“Shut up, birdbrain. My army of Iron Men is totally going to bring world peace. Or assure it stays as peaceful as possible.”

“Sure. When the cow jumps over the moon.”

“Guys. Stark, you got the computers unlocked?” Steve asked.

“Ages ago. I got all the information they didn’t fry before I fried them.”

“Anything good?”

“No,” Stark groused. “Other than this was just a weapon strong hold. They didn’t do anything interesting here.”

“Interesting?”

“Like keep anything other than good old Earth weapons. Who ever gave Hill this tip is getting fired.”

“Fine. Get back to the jet.”

Steve wrestled his shield out of the tree, then headed over to help Thor. They worked quietly till all the guys were tied together and waited for Clint to show up with the truck to load them in.

“Have you heard of my brother as of late?” Thor quietly asked.

“Just what JARVIS tells me via Jim Nicholls.”

Thor nodded and waited.

“He’s fine. Good, actually. I’ve got no idea what they are doing, but it keeps him busy, which is what he needed. JARVIS reports that Loki’s in good spirits and doing well.”

“No more details?”

Steve shook is head. “Jim gives JARVIS more detail than Loki does, but Jim respects Loki so he doesn’t tell me what the hell they’re doing, just that he’s working through his issues and is doing well with the others.”

“He will come home.”

Steve gave Thor a look, but said nothing.

“He’s done this before.”

“Left his boyfriend behind to go join a secret spy agency that is illegal and currently wanted by the government?”

“No, not exactly. I mean, he’s run away before. Several times, actually.”

“He has a habit of running away?”

“Loki enjoys having control over himself and fears rejection,” Thor quietly explained. “He is scared of other’s anger.”

“I wasn’t angry till he said he was leaving.”

“The world was angry at him,” Thor pointed out. “They’ve gotten over it, but whatever he is doing has become important. Once he sees it to completion he will return.”

“He always came back?”

“No. When he was a child, the guards found him the first time before he managed to leave the city and the second time I found him. He didn’t try again till he was older. None of us knew at the time how he’d managed to get to Midgard, but Heimdall reported he was upon Midgard. Father sent me and my friends to bring him home. He did not come quietly.”

“And after that? Did he return on his own?”

“Yes. After that time, he began to hide himself from Heimdall. Father likely knew how he was doing so, but he’d vanish for periods of time after a conflict and return later brimming with stories of his travels. It got to the point he was simply always away and not running away.”

“Loki doesn’t like conflict?”

“He doesn’t like when people do not like him. He fears not being loved. While I do not fully believe the reason he left you was because he feared you’d hate him for putting you in the position he did, I am sure that is part of why he left.”

Steve stared at the ground. 

“The other part is because everything was taken away from him,” Thor went on. “His home, your home, his security.”

“Everyone knew his face,” Steve quietly remembered.

“And they hated him,” Thor gently said. “Father always said Loki was a little too thin skinned to be a proper king, but he’d make a wonderful advisor.”

Steve gave Thor a lopsided smile. “Yeah.”

“He will return,” Thor assured, clapping a large hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“I know. When he’s ready, he’ll come back. I just wish he’d do it sooner rather than later.”

“I do as well, Captain.”

* * *

_In reality, I’m wide awake / I think about things that I can do tomorrow but I’m trapped / Because it’s so dark outside and everybody else is fast asleep_

_-Kate Nash, “3 AM”_

* * *

“We sold the last handbag.”

Steve stared at the empty shelves.

“This place was full when I left,” Steve whispered.

“I know,” Naomi moaned. “I know. Since you were gone, Potts sent down an army of interns. They were way more efficient than just the two of us. We stopped getting stuff in and Sam closed the shop down last night after the last thing sold. Now, the official website is only taking donations of cash, no longer stuff. It’s over.”

Naomi collapsed dramatically on the floor and played dead.

“Oh.”

Naomi sat up and looked at Steve pleadingly.

“Please don’t send me back upstairs. Can I do something for you? I don’t care. Answering fan mail? Shining the shield? I’ll buff your boots.”

“Someone already answers my fan mail for me,” Steve said, feeling helpless and aimless. “And I don’t, well, I like buffing my own boots, not that they need it. Or the shield. Sorry.”

Naomi sighed, flopping back on the floor.

“You want to be a personal assistant?” Steve guessed.

“No. I want to be a stylist.”

Steve looked down at himself. “I don’t really need a stylist.”

“Yeah you do, but I get it.”

“I do?”

“Well, I mean, you don’t do a lot of events, but when you do you always look like you forgot what century you’re in, which is understandable since you’re from a different century.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t mean to be mean,” Naomi assured, sitting back up. “I just…well, I don’t know. I mean, you don’t actually go out. And you’re so good looking, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Are you sure?”

“Fine. It does matter. Can I look at your closet?”

Steve blinked several times before he decided to let the girl loose in his closet. Stark Industries vetted their interns, so he figured she wasn’t going to steal his underwear and sell it online.

Well, she might. (She didn’t.)

Naomi spent an hour pouring over his lack of options, then told him what he ought to buy, and finally agreed to buy it for him. He sent her out the next day with a credit card he’d gotten from Pepper after he’d explained what he was doing and why. Naomi spent the entire morning and part of the afternoon out, but returned with exactly what she said she was going to get and nothing else. After putting on a fashion show for her and changing into one of his new shirts, he took Naomi to Bruce’s apartment to make over his wardrobe. Bruce wasn’t there, but he told Steve to make themselves at home and he’d be down if they needed him. Naomi spent a half hour pouring over Bruce’s lack of choices (“He only has two button downs and they are both purple!”) and spent the next day outfitting Bruce so he didn’t look like a “fashion disaster college student.” 

“I hear you got Bruce new clothes,” Natasha said the next afternoon when she dropped by Steve’s apartment. Steve was having another go at painting, mixing together his left over Asgardian supplies with stuff he’d gotten at a local art shop in Midtown.

“Figured you’d appreciate it.”

“What’d you do with your intern now that she’s dressed you two?”

“Let her give me a hair cut.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. She said it was getting too long. She did cosmetology in high school, but her mom didn’t think that was…good enough for her daughter and made her go to college to be an engineer.” Steve made a face, Natasha quirked an eyebrow. “I told her she could redesign my suit. That’s what she’s doing right now. She’s in the supply room working.”

Natasha stared at him and snickered.

“Yours, too.”

“What?!”

Steve pulled the mockup Naomi had cooked up that morning for Natasha out of his art kit, extending it towards her. Natasha took it and stared.

“Why the hell would I want blue lights on my suit? I couldn’t sneak up on anyone.”

Steve shrugged, turning back to his painting. He loved the way the green color danced in the sunlight. Maybe he could ask Thor to get him some more paints and oils the next time he went back to Asgard?

Natasha was silent for a solid minute before she asked, “What is it about this girl?”

Steve glanced over at Natasha. “She’s got a dream. No one believes in her. Her mother wants her to be an engineer, but her talent is not there. This, this is her passion. Who better to believe in her than Captain America?”

Natasha blankly stared for a moment before a warm smile broke across her face.

“You are the sweetest human being alive. How are you real?”

“Dunno. Just doing what’s right.”

“Sure. Fine. She going to sew it herself?”

“That I do not know. I know she knows how to make clothes, but I doubt she’s really got time to sew you a new suit.”

“I could give her an old one.”

“How about we talk to the— wait. The old person was SHEILD, weren’t they?”

“Yeah. We’ll have to ask Stark.”

* * *

_There goes my hero / Watch him as he goes / There goes my hero / He’s ordinary_

_\- Foo Fighters, “My Hero”_

* * *

“You got me a professional sewing machine?”

“Yeah. And then this one here. It makes handbags. Here’s a pile of leather for you to learn. Oh, and I got a leather worker coming in twice a week to give you lessons, since you said you could sew cloth but not leather.”

Naomi stared at Steve before bursting into tears.

“Those are happy tears,” Natasha whispered before Steve let out his breath he’d been holding when the girl had started bawling.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Naomi threw her arms around Steve, hugging him quickly before she scampered off to check out the piles of fabric and leather Steve and Natasha picked out the previous afternoon.

“Who wanted glowing lights?” Stark asked, stomping into the overly white former storage room/mail room/now Naomi’s sewing room. “What the hell is wrong with this room?”

“You designed it,” Natasha snarked.

“What? Oh, yeah. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Sure, Stark. What do you want?” Steve asked.

“I got those blue glowing light things you wanted. You know, to be put on clothes.”

“Thanks!” Naomi said, wiping her face on her arm. “I can attach these to Widow’s suit.”

She skipped over to Tony, took what he was holding, and hurried over to the sewing machine. She grabbed up the suit Natasha had given up for the cause. Tony gaped.

“When did we hire a sewer?”

“You did, and at the start of the summer,” Natasha replied. “She’s the intern Pepper gave Steve when he was mailing out handbags and shoes.”

“Huh.”

“She doesn’t want to be anything Stark Industries can offer, so Steve’s letting her be his fashion consultant and by extension the Avengers.”

“She is not designing anything for Iron Man.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Naomi muttered, pins in her mouth.

“She’s not touching you or Thor. Thor mostly because his armor just magically appears.”

Tony scowled and stomped out without a further word.

“I can’t wait till Clint sees the outfit,” Natasha grinned. “Can’t have him wearing that SHIELD crap now that SHIELD is pretending to be dead.”

* * *

 _It’s my twisted way of keeping you close / I’m a nervous wreck, I’m a broken man_ / _Did you get my message? Did it send?_

_-Maroon 5, “Runaway”_

* * *

“Do you miss him?”

“Miss who?” Steve asked, staring the drawing he was working on while Naomi worked on Hawkeye’s new duds.

It was not lost on Steve that he’d befriended a twenty-year-old co-ed and she was practically his best friend these days since Sam was off Bucky Searching and Natasha was working with Bruce (or claiming she was working. Steve had a feeling they were mostly sitting around watching old movies more often then not).

“Loki. I know you’re lonely. That’s why you hang out with me when I’m here.”

Naomi had gone back to college a few weeks ago, but was resolute on finishing up the uniforms for the Avengers and Steve insisted she continue her lessons on fashion and design so she still spent quite a bit of time at Stark Tower.

And yes, Steve was pretty much putting her through fashion school while her mother paid a pretty penny for her daughter to attend Columbia and major in engineering. (Which Naomi was dismal at and it wasn’t because she was stupid.) Naomi promised when she made her first million she’d pay Steve back for putting her through private fashion school.

Steve knew he didn’t need to be paid back. The fact she put up with him was enough for him.

“Steve, I miss my boyfriend like whoa and I talk to him on the phone every night and text him during the day,” Naomi went on. “Your boyfriend collected lots of designer handbags in a fit of…something, then vamoosed.”

“He…is fighting HYDRA.”

“Aren’t you? You go out and fight HYDRA a lot. At least I hope that’s what you all are doing when you leave in that fancy jet.”

“Yeah. But, it wasn’t…I’m too high profile and he needed to sort somethings out.”

“Because he’s nuts? No! Sorry, I didn’t meant that meanly. I just mean…because he’s…”

“He has issues,” Steve allowed, turning back to the drawing of Naomi at her sewing machine. Stark had fixed the lights in the room now that it was being used for ART. The new lighting was almost as good as natural light. “His therapist was actually HYDRA, so it kind of explained why he was making progress but not at the same time. He was…angry. And then the world turned on him, the government took everything he owned, and he was pretty much a prisoner in this tower as they’d’ve arrested him if he walked out.”

“How’d he escape?”

“He stole one of Stark’s cars and no one blinked an eye, since they thought he was Stark.”

Naomi made a face. She went back to working on the coat.

“I miss him every day,” Steve quietly admitted.

“You love him like whoa,” Naomi remarked. “I mean, I saw it in the footage they found of the pair of you before this…mess. And I’ve seen it in person now. You think he’s really going to come back?”

“Yeah. Like everyone says: when he’s ready.”

“You don’t believe that.”

Steve cringed. “Yeah, well, I gotta tell myself he’ll come back. I don’t really have time to go on a missing person’s search for two people.”

“What?”

“Forget you heard that.”

Naomi frowned, but nodded.

The noise of the sewing machine filled the half empty space. Steve tossed aside the drawing and blankly stared at his attempt to understand abstract art. Since Loki had left, he found he like throwing paint at a canvas, building a simple frame, and sticking it on the walls in place of the old pokey art Stark had put on the walls. Or Stark’s designer had put on the walls after Stark approved it.

“Why did he buy all those Birkin bags?”

“I’ve got no idea. He was angry and decided to burn a huge hole in Stark’s bank account.”

“Stark didn’t do anything to him.”

“I know,” Steve sighed. “I try not to find logic in some of the more bizarre ways Loki deals. Jess, his best friend, said that it was likely because he felt helpless and it was something he could do. And upon having a wealth invested in…Birkins?”

Naomi nodded.

“I guess Jess told him if he was going to buy a handbag that would retain value, buy a Birkin bag. So, he bought a few.”

“He bought over fifty that I saw,” Naomi muttered. “And before I got here, there were fifty others that sold.”

“Yeah. He kind of went nuts.”

Naomi snorted. “Where’s your other friend? The one that started the charity?”

“Washington. He’s got a life there.”

“Why didn’t you stay there?”

“Loki was here.”

“Why didn’t you go back when Loki left?”

“Because there was nothing there after Loki left. Our apartment wasn’t ours and was also riddled with bullet holes.”

“And the government took your home here,” Naomi sighed. “So, you’re homeless.”

“Stark has an apartment for me.”

“But, it’s not yours.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Naomi sighed, frowned, then went back to sewing. Steve went back to staring at his abstract art.

Abstract art made him feel better, but he still didn’t understand it. It looked like a toddler had gotten a hold of some paint and slopped it about. He wasn’t a toddler.

He kind of wished he were sometimes, though. Toddler’s had no responsibility other than to live their lives, learn, and grow.

“Done.”

Steve jerked, feeling a lump of dread in his stomach at her words.

“I hope this fits him, since he’s MIA all the time,” Naomi grumbled. “What’s next? I should make something for Loki!”

She leapt up and skipped across the room and came to rest— if you could call jumping up and down coming to rest— next to Steve. She clapped her hands.

“After he’s come back, he’ll be an Avenger, right?”

“I don’t know…why?”

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, Miss Webster?”

“What are Loki’s measurements? Send them to my tablet.”

Naomi hopped back across the room. Steve felt the lump vanish and be replaced by an itch in his fingers. After glancing at the painting, he grabbed a pencil and his sketchbook and started sketching Naomi in her element: designing a new outfit.

* * *

_They seek him here, they seek him there / His clothes are loud, but never square / It’ll make or break him so he’s got to buy the best_

_-The Kinks, “Dedicated Follower of Fashion”_

* * *

“Looks good. I cannot believe you let me design that for you. Total honor.”

“Well, SHEILD always designed them for me and I just wore them because they were there. I like this.”

“Coulson,” Natasha coughed next to Steve while she adjusted her own sleeves on her new suit.

“Thanks! Who’s…” Naomi fell silent as Clint walked out, itching his head and looking a little confused to find a stranger standing on the flight deck. “Ohmygod.”

“Uh, hi?”

“YOU LOOK AWESOME! Ohmygod. I’m going to go cry now in joy. Don’t mind me.”

Naomi took a shuddering breath and fled while Clint looked utterly baffled.

“Who the hell was that?”

“Our costume designer,” Natasha muttered. “I do not know how I feel about these blue lights.”

“Just try them out. Is Bruce already in?” Steve asked, flexing his arms back and forth and enjoying the airflow he suddenly felt around his stomach. He had no idea what Naomi had put in the stomach area to get him airflow, but he might kiss her when they got back.

“Yes. And listening to his opera,” Natasha said, flicking the lights off and on and looking annoyed and a little impressed. “This was really bad timing.”

“I know. Sorry. I don’t control the information being dumped on us,” Steve apologized. “Thor’s going to meet us there. He’s in London.”

“Let’s get inside,” Tony urged, striding forward wearing a t-shirt and jeans. “Did I just pass a sobbing co-ed? Did you break up with her?”

“No. She saw Barton,” Natasha snickered.

“Yeah. I cry each time I see Barton, too.”

“Shut up, Stark. Do I look weird? I feel weird. It’s the coat. It’s too long. Why am I even wearing a coat?”

“It’s cold,” Natasha reminded him. “She made you a sleek coat that I bet anything will not hinder your movement.”

Natasha did a series of stretches that made Steve hurt just watching her.

“She made this?” Clint asked, eyeing the coat closely. “I thought Stark just had new costumes made for us all. Hence your flashy lights.”

“Nope. It was Naomi Webster, engineering student at Columbia.”

Clint looked utterly mystified, but shook his head. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand and get us a Glow Stick of Destiny.”

“Let’s hope it’s actually there this time,” Steve muttered, heading into the Quinjet.

* * *

_It’s okay to be angry and never let go / It only gets harder the more you know / When you get lonely if no one’s around / You know I’ll catch you when you’re falling down_

_-Yellowcard, “Empty Apartment”_

* * *

It was there.

They took it.

Then all hell broke loose.

After it was all said and done, Steve stood in his new place of residence. He already liked it better than his last one. And not because it strongly looked like the home he’d shared with Loki.

“Did I get it right?” Stark quietly asked.

Stark had been rather subdue and quiet since the whole Ultron disaster. He hadn’t done something like destroy all his Iron Man suits like he had before, but Steve understood that was more symbolic for being over his issues with the Battle of Malibu (not for Pepper, poor woman was a saint for putting up with Stark). No, this time he went into hiding in northern New York then sprung a new headquarters out of nowhere.

Well, not nowhere. The building had been long forgotten Stark Industries warehouse. Tony simply paid a butt load of people to convert it into a livable and workable headquarters for the Avengers. Because for some reason they needed a headquarters now.

“Well, if you’re trying to recreate the home I had with Loki, yeah. You’re almost there.”

“It’s got all your stuff.”

Steve jerked, realizing Stark was right. There was the couch, that stupid chair that took Loki three hours to pick out the fabric for, the mismatched table and chairs Steve had in his Brooklyn apartment that Loki and he had painted white one afternoon, his bookshelves that Loki had wallpapered for some unknown reason while Steve had been away on a mission, and their various nicknacks.

It was their stuff, this was their home transported to upstate New York.

“My lawyers are still fighting with the government to get them to release the apartment in Manhattan,” Stark muttered, picking things up at random and setting them down. “And likely will be till Loki gets his name cleared, which will not happen till we get a new government.”

“Stark, shut up.”

“Okay.”

“This is great.”

“Yeah, well, Pepper didn’t think this was the best idea, but Loki is home and this is Loki. Naomi agreed with me when I swung the idea passed her. She’s still going to be your costumer, by the way. And her private lessons in fashion will continue, don’t worry. I know talent when I see it. Even if it’s not my area.”

“But, I thought you were all about style,” Steve joked.

“I am. But, hers is better,” Stark grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Where do you find these people?”

“I don’t find them. They find me.”

“Sure. I’m going to go see Thor off then head back to the city.”

“I’ll go with you,” Steve said, turning and heading towards the hallway. The elevator didn’t even open up into the penthouse, which Steve liked quite a bit. Stark went out and Steve locked the door behind him even though he technically didn’t need to lock it as only Natasha and Steve had clearance to be on the floor. Also, Steve had no illusions there was a lock created that could keep a determined Natasha out.

“So, we good?”

“Were we bad?”

“You tried to beat me up.”

“When you were going to put JARVIS in another robot body. One Ultron built.”

“If you had stopped a moment for me to explain,” Stark started.

“We’re going to agree to disagree, Stark.”

“I’m Stark again?”

Steve did not comment. Stark sighed.

“I know JARVIS was giving you Loki updates. I’m trying to get FRIDAY to do the same, but she can’t find his phone. Mostly because it’s an iLoki. And he stopped calling so she can’t even begin to get familiar with him.”

“Okay. That’s fine. I’ll be busy here,” Steve insisted.

Stark gave him a look. “I’ll send you a message once I figure out where Loki is.”

“Okay.”

“And your other missing person.”

Steve froze.

“I’m not an idiot.”

“You’re not?”

“I know you’ve been looking for him. I wish you wouldn’t, but I get it. Okay? I get it.”

“Do you?”

“If Rhodey was suddenly a brain washed Russian-slash-HYDRA assassin, I’d get him back.”

“Okay.”

“Well, I’m going to shut up now.”

“Is that even possible?”

“No, but I’ll try.”

* * *

_You will find peace of mind / If you look way down in your heart and soul / Don’t hesitate ‘cause the world seems cold_

_-Earth, Wind, and Fire, “That’s The Way of the World”_


End file.
